Life and Death and Life Again
by islandofhopex
Summary: A collection of prompted Hotaru drabbles. Mostly gen with some unrequited Chibiusa/Hotaru.
1. The First Day

A year ago, she had it all mapped out. She would give her mom one last kiss and walk through those doors in her favorite purple dress. She would befriend her classmates before the week was over. She would make her dad proud by being the first to learn what all those scribbles people put in letters stood for. It would be the best school year in Hotaru Tomoe's life.

She went over this image many times—as intangible as the end of the Milky Way, but getting closer every day. Then Hotaru stumbled in on metal legs, and knew she'd set herself up for failure. She mumbled the greetings she'd practiced over and over inside her head, making her classmates frown in a way that meant nothing to an adult, but gutted a six year old.

By the time she was released, Hotaru's eyes had taken on a pupilless tone. But if her father noticed, he didn't mention it. Instead, he spewed words she didn't understand that ended in _You'll get special schooling from now on_, which she wasn't sure if she should be happy or sad about.


	2. Fragmented Memories

It comes to her in pieces.

First it's just a kid getting a star face painted on his forehead (she cringes inwardly, but forces herself to ignore it). Then it's watching fathers come to pick up their children at school (having three mothers never seemed unnatural until that moment). Finally, her class learns the human body by having to draw it (she draws her heart in the shape of a crystal, then can't remember why—hearts aren't crystals… are they?).

She refuses to mention it. If Setsuna-mama taught her anything, it's not to dwell over nonsense. But when she dreams of a young lady who smiles with nostalgia—an older her, holding the Grim Reaper's glaive—she's forced to face the truth.

She was not always this Hotaru Tomoe.


	3. Those Roses You Threw Away

Smelling of her father's roses and unicorn hair, the girl practically knocks her over with a hug. Hotaru struggles just to remember her friend's name, but instinct keeps her from pulling away.

They spend too many hours and yet not enough talking about everything from the latest _Sailor V_ game to why the moon is more powerful than any planet. Whoever this Chibiusa is, Hotaru knows she makes her feel more comfortable than anyone else.

As much as the Senshi love their little girl, they look at her like they don't know what to make of her, the girl who was good then evil then good then dead then reborn without any memory whatsoever. It's different with Chibiusa. The simple-minded girl sees her best friend, nothing more.

Things only get complicated when Hotaru dreams of a Daimon growing inside of her. It's silly and illogical, but it leaves her shaken in a way that only Chibiusa, who has the same scar, can understand. Chibiusa has no idea what to say, so she just sits there, holding her hand until the image fades. It makes Hotaru feel good in a way that she doesn't want to admit.

Haruka-papa once told her that gender is irrelevant. People love who they love, and if Hotaru can't see that, then she didn't raise her right.

Hotaru ingrains the words in her mind. _People love who they love_. She repeats it like a mantra as she waits for Chibiusa to come over, so she can finally—finally…

Chibiusa chooses that day to tell her why she always smells of unicorn hair. Love may not care for the word "gender," but it sure cares for "unrequited."


	4. The Sweetest Revenge

The air was chilled and the sun nowhere in sight; a perfect day for revenge.

The young girl leveled her breathing and unleashed a taunting cry. The victim was nowhere in sight, but the raven-haired girl knew that could not last. Her victim may have been stubborn, but no one's stubbornness rivaled that of Hotaru Tomoe.

The wind seemed to race along with her as she crept between tree after tree. Goosebumps formed on her arms by the dozen, but Hotaru refused to acknowledge them. Giving up was not an option.

Finally, periwinkle eyes locked onto amethyst ones, and Hotaru smiled proudly. "I told you I'd beat you at Mr. Daruma Fell Down one of these days," she said, her voice soft but strong.

"One win. Big deal," Chibiusa remarked, but the impressed look on her face gave her away.

And despite the fogginess of her memories, Hotaru knew that no revenge, not even by the mistress, had ever tasted sweeter.


	5. A Delusion of Joy

Dreams were often the bane of Hotaru's existence. Between images of her trying to kill her friends and of her mothers trying to kill her, it was hard _not_ to wake up tangled between the sheets.

However, she'd never before experienced such a strange dream. Hotaru found herself standing in front of a simple, body length mirror. She could not understand why, as she wasn't even tall enough for it, but, looking into it, she saw that logic had deceived her.

The girl in the mirror certainly resembled her, but she wasn't a girl at all. She was a young lady, grinning blissfully from a spot in the forest. Where Hotaru, both in mind and body, was awkward, this woman was elegant and impressive.

"Why do you look so sad and confused?" the mirror image asked suddenly.

"Me? I—" Hotaru stuttered, her older self making her uncharacteristically inarticulate. "I just…"

"Oh, I'm just kidding, child," the woman said in a tone that only made her more uncomfortable. "It must be startling, to see yourself so happy and carefree. But you know, you could be me if you wanted."

"You? You're not even real," Hotaru replied, her cynicism shaking the nerves out of her.

"I could be, if you had the guts to make me real," the image said. "You could be _beautiful_. This forest could give you more serenity than the endless battles of reality ever could. You wouldn't have to worry about what you're going to dream about, for you'd _be_ a dream."

Hotaru could do nothing but stare. Just when she thought she could formulate a response, the woman called for one of her friends. A pink-haired young lady emerged from behind the rock, making Hotaru's breath catch in her throat.

"You like what you see?" the dream taunted, holding her friend a bit _too_ close and speaking again before Hotaru could protest. "She may not care for you in the real world, but here she's, like everything else, whatever you want to be. If only you could be as happy as me…"

The little girl gazed at the enticing image of herself, worriless and being embraced by the only one she'd ever had positive dreams about, before pinching herself so hard she jolted awake.

Light was meaningless without darkness to balance it out. She of all people knew that.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

In case you were confused, Hotaru was looking into a dream mirror from Super S.


	6. Paper to Screen

Hotaru had happened upon many surreal things in her lifetime. Growing up with a lab in the house, it was sort of a given. However, she'd never seen anything that had chilled her like that girl did.

If Hotaru hadn't known better, she would've been sure that that girl was a clone. With her hollow eyes and ebony hair, it was like looking in a mirror. And yet, there was something off about her. The girl's steps were even more tremulous than her own. Whoever she was, Hotaru couldn't just leave her there.

"Hi," she greeted. "I don't think I've seen you around before."

The girl eyed her suspiciously before responding. "Yeah, I don't go out much… nice to meet you," she said curtly.

"I hope this doesn't come off as rude," she said, fumbling with the hem of her dress, "but are you ill? I only ask because I am, so I thought maybe…"

The girl hesitated, but apparently decided it couldn't hurt to talk about it with someone who also suffered. "I am," she admitted. "It's been like this for years. Father doesn't like me talking about it, but…"

Hotaru nodded knowingly. "Same… but you know, he just wants what's best for you. He may not be in his right mind, but he cares about you… he has to," she said, the last part coming out as a whisper.

Evidently, she had hit a soft spot, for her clone's fists tightened, her eyes reverting back to their guarded state. "I don't know what kind of fairytale world you live in," she retorted, surprising even herself with her tone, "but in real life, fathers don't always have good intentions. Sometimes they're just as bad as they seem."

Hotaru's hands shook as she forcibly maintained eye contact. "He… he's just not himself. You have to give him a chance. Don't be so… closed-minded," she urged.

In the blink of an eye, the girl was leaving, and Hotaru fruitlessly followed. The girl couldn't move very fast, but neither could Hotaru.

It was an odd sight to behold: Twins collapsed on the ground, trying to run from each other's fate. As the animated one passed out, she could've sworn she saw metal peeking out of the other girl's sleeve.

_Then again, maybe we're not the same._

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

This was Hotaru's manga version and Hotaru's anime version meeting.


	7. Handsome Guardian Tuxedo Mask

The black-haired woman surveyed the scene with a crooked smile. The Senshi looked as determined as ever, but she knew that that couldn't hold for long—especially not with that little brat distracting Tuxedo Mask.

Although his silvery-haired guardian firmly assured him that he'd made the right decision, there was nothing that could be done to stop Tuxedo Mask's daughter from blaming him.

_If you hadn't taken me home as soon as you saw who she lived with, maybe she wouldn't be like this!_

Her words echoed around the battlefield. Tuxedo Mask, along with his girlfriend, tried to settle her, saying that not everyone had the potential for redemption in them, but the little girl who was raised on fantasy refused to dismiss the idea.

"Oh, Tuxedo Mask, please do thank your daughter," the mistress taunted. "Your petty arguments are making my victory rather easy."

She lunged at the family, but the masked face reddened with rage and intercepted her attack. The fight seemed to stretch on for ages, but the lady relished in it. Every howl of pain from the Senshi seemed to fill her with strength. She was laughing coldly, as if the battle was already won, when her opponent shouted _Tuxedo La Smoking Bomber_, making her fall to her death with that proud look still stuck on her face.

No one knew the name of the hoste who had passed on along with her, but even after Chibiusa gave up on trying to redeem a ghost, the girl's face—a mess of what-ifs—haunted Mamoru.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

This is an AU where Tuxedo Mask is the protagonist, not Sailor Moon. I just think that Mamoru would be more driven by logic than Usagi was.

Unfortunately, this is where the writing challenge I was in ended. However, all of your reviews have been lovely, so I'm not going to call this complete. I'll update it if I get inspired, which, considering my love for Hotaru, is very likely. Either way, thanks for the reviews/favorites. :)


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